


Dear Father

by Ananfal



Series: Letter Fics [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Family Reunions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Letters, Post-Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 18:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14384313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ananfal/pseuds/Ananfal
Summary: Three letters sent, no replies received. Then comes a surprise visit. He may never heal fully, but this is no longer about him.





	Dear Father

_ Dear Father, _

 

_ I suppose you are glad that you did not remain in England now. You were right all those years ago. We have fallen on dark times. And I am indeed, as you predicted, on the wrong side. Can you blame me Father? I wanted so badly to prove myself to you. To elevate our name and standing, to make us more than we were before. To provide more for my son than you did for yours. _

_ I apologize. That was cruel of me. I felt so slighted as a child, and it is only now that I am older, and have a son of my own, that I realize: no matter what you did, I would have felt wronged. I do not blame you any longer. We both made mistakes. I only hope that it is not too late to move past them. _

_ If not for me, then for my son. Your grandson. _

 

_ With great sincerity,  _

_ Lucius Malfoy _

 

* * *

 

_ Dear Father,  _

 

_ I do not know if you have received my letters, for I have received no replies. I can only go on writing these letters in the hopes that you are listening, for there is no one else to talk to. No one else to listen. Not for me. _

_ I must be strong for my wife and son. They cannot see me falter now, when it is most dangerous. We cannot afford to show weakness. He inhabits my home - our home. Malfoy Manor will forever be stained with the darkness of his presence. It will never be washed clean. I will never be clean. _

_ I wander the dungeons, listening to the screams of the poor inhabitants as their torment goes on. I feel as though they echo in my soul at night when I try to sleep. I do not rest much anymore. I no longer even try, to be honest. But that does not come as much of a surprise. To you, and to me. _

_ If I die before this gods-forsaken war is over, please take in my son. Save him. He is everything to me. _

 

_ Best health, _

_ Lucius Malfoy _

 

* * *

 

_ Dear Father, _

 

_ I hope you will be proud of me. I have chosen the winning side now. The right side. The side my son should have been on from the beginning, if what I know of him is correct. He was never like me, and for that I am thankful. _

_ He took after you, I think. You and Mother. _

_ He would love to meet you. _

_ I hope he will be able to, when this is over. _

_ Eventually. _

 

_ Salute et victoria, _

_ Your son, _

_ Lucius Malfoy _

 

* * *

 

A loud chime rang throughout the Manor, and Lucius knew that Draco’s friends had finally arrived, setting off the Proximity Ward. Clutching the now smooth-topped cane in his right hand, he gripped the wood of his writing desk with his left and began to heave himself to his feet.

“No need to get up, Father.” His son’s voice came from the doorway of his study, and Lucius paused his movements, anticipating the next words to come. “I think it would be best if... I went to greet them myself. You can continue as you were before being interrupted.” Draco nodded at the desk to make his meaning clear. Though he knew the words were coming, that didn’t make them sting any less. Lucius took a deep breath and slowly lowered himself back into his chair, carefully directing his eyes towards the wood paneling of the wall opposite him instead of the look on Draco’s face.

“I understand.” He said in a calm voice, inwardly relieved that it didn’t shake. It didn’t stand up to his son’s keen gaze, but nothing more was said and the door was shut behind him. Silence reigned.

“Blast it!” His cane thudded into the wall, thrown across the room with the force of his sudden rage. But the anger faded as quickly as it had come, and Lucius resisted the urge to put his head in his hands. He already regretted his rash actions, as he would have to now get his cane, and his already aching leg protested loudly at the thought.  _ Well, that’s too bloody bad _ , he thought to himself.

He forced himself to his feet and, after regaining his balance, began to make his way across the room. Each step was agony, fire shooting upwards from his foot to his thigh, the muscles jerking and twitching under the strain of movement. By the time he got to his cane, his breath was coming in heavy gasps and his leg felt like it was being held under the Cruciatus Curse - something he was very intimately familiar with. Bending over seemed impossible at the moment.

“How you would laugh to see me now, Father.” Lucius whispered, a bitter sound escaping his lips.

“You know me better than that, boy.” A gruff voice announced, and Lucius stiffened, his already pained muscles screaming.

“Father.” He finally managed to say, awkwardly bending down to grab his cane while trying not to aggravate his leg any further. Gratefully leaning on his cane to take some of the weight off of his leg, he turned to face the new arrival at the door. “ I didn’t know you were coming.” I didn’t know you were alive, was left unsaid.

“I didn’t want you to know.” Was the reply, and Lucius struggled to breathe for a moment.

There was only one chair in the room, and he automatically extended his arm to offer the seat to his father.

“You need it more than I.” It was said neutrally, without scorn, but Lucius felt shame sear into him anyway. Limping heavily, he slowly made his way back to his chair and sank down into it, his right knuckles beginning to knead his thigh in a futile attempt to ease the pain still present there.

“Why did you come, Father?” He asked, allowing his masks to fall and reveal just how tired and in pain he was. Why was his Father here now, instead of when he truly needed him? When he called out for help?

“I got your letters.” A non-answer. Lucius didn’t respond. What could he say to such a statement?

When it became clear that his father was not going to continue without further prompting, he sighed and leaned forward. “What did you think of them, then?” He finally asked, one hand coming up to cover his face.

“Lucius...” The hands on his shoulders startled him into looking up, his father gazing down at him solemnly.

“You needn’t say anything, Father. I understand. I know I am not the son that you wanted. In fact, Draco is more like you than I ever could be.” He took a deep breath, about to continue, when his father cut him off gently.

“Lucius, stop. You are my son, and I will always be very proud of you. You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you. I know I made mistakes in the past, but you have overcome them admirably. You chose the right side in the end, regardless of what side you were on in the beginning.”

Lucius wanted to argue. He wanted to raise his voice and demand he take it back. There were so many wrong statements, so many holes and counterarguments he could make. But for some reason, he just couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, but only a small broken sound escaped his control.

His eyes widened in shock and horror, and he instantly began pulling away from his father, determined not to cry in front of him. He hadn’t done that since he was a young child, and he wasn’t going to start now.

“It’s alright, child. There are no barriers between us.” And Lucius wept bitterly into his father’s chest, even as he knew his father’s statement for the lie it was. Somewhere over the long years of absence and separation, they had lost the connection between them, and there was no way to get that back.

But there was still hope for his son, to know his grandfather - to make something of himself in this new world. And it was that hope that was keeping Lucius alive when his usefulness was long past.


End file.
